


Heavy Hearts and Drunken Minds

by Spaceytrash



Category: House M.D.
Genre: Alcohol, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Depression, Drinking, Drinking to Cope, Drunkenness, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Related, First Kiss, Greg House is Bad With Emotions, Hurt Greg House, Implied/Referenced Suicide, M/M, Poor James Wilson (House M.D.), Suicide Attempt, Tritter Arc
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-25
Updated: 2019-10-25
Packaged: 2021-01-03 07:48:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21175913
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Spaceytrash/pseuds/Spaceytrash
Summary: "He just couldn’t get it out of his head. It was constantly popping up before his eyes, like a bad penny, without any consideration if he wanted it to or not.How House had been lying on his floor, vomit with nothing but bile and pills foaming out of his mouth and forming a pool of sick next to him."Wilson deals with leaving House behind at the end of 'Merry Little Christmas'





	Heavy Hearts and Drunken Minds

He just couldn’t get it out of his head. It was constantly popping up before his eyes, like a bad penny, without any consideration if he wanted it to or not.

How House had been lying on his floor, vomit with nothing but bile and pills foaming out of his mouth and forming a pool of sick next to him. The stolen pill bottle had rolled a bit away from his hand, screaming loudly at Wilson to be noticed, to be acknowledged, almost like a call for help.

It had been clear as day and yet Wilson had left him lying there, after making sure he wouldn’t die. The pain and hurt of his friend’s betrayal and the shock of the length House had been prepared to go, coursing through him and making him leave – no flee. Trying to run away out of anger but also to escape the harsh reality. A reality he wished wouldn’t exist. Not really processing it truly, the anger, the pain and fear for his friend making him run. He just needed to get some distance between himself and the pain.

Now he was sitting in a dark and seedy bar, around the corner of House’s flat. The third glass of something bitter and alcoholic in front of him and desperately trying to get away from the image of his friend on the floor and the guilt that was consuming him over his own betrayal.

He downed his glass, letting the alcohol chase away the bitter feeling in his heart, while signalling for another. A pleasant buzz was already filling his head, yet he hadn’t achieved what he wanted. The image still haunting him.

He still couldn’t forget the way House had been lying on his floor, once again flirting with Lady Death. The shining blue eyes, that had been featured in his dreams more often than he was really comfortable with, dull and empty, shimmering with pain instead of their usual shine and sharpness. Guilt coursed through him once again, and he drank his glass in one go. Feeling it burning down his throat and making him grimace. The bar began to spin, and he knew he had to stop drinking or he wouldn’t be able to get home. He couldn’t call House to get him after all.

The thought of House just started him again down the path he hadn’t wanted to tread again. Was he still unconscious or was he already awake again? How was he feeling? As shit as Wilson himself? Was he going to be okay?

Wilson, sighed, running a shaking hand through his hair and then letting it slide down to his neck, massaging the tensed muscles. The guilt he was feeling over the whole situation coming back full force. He just hoped House would finally get the help he needed.

But what if he wouldn’t? What if he really wouldn’t take the deal and Wilson got subpoenaed and he would be the one that sent his best friend to jail? Without making up, apologizing and talking everything out. It would hurt even more than it hurt now, and he didn’t know what he would do with himself, if House really went to prison. He was his best friend. The only person he had been able to keep. With three failed marriages under his belt and now even his friendship with House was on the brink. It was depressing, really. And it made him think about, how maybe it wasn’t House that was ruining relationships, but maybe Wilson himself. After all his track record would agree with that. He wasn’t even able to keep his friend. He had ratted him out to Tritter. Yes, he had only wanted to help him, but now he was the reason House would go to jail. In his drunken state he was even pondering if he was the reason why House had overdosed tonight.

He felt his eyes begin to water and he had to blink repeatedly to keep the tears at bay. Damn, he was such an idiot. He needed to talk to House. He needed to make sure the other was okay and if there was a way to salvage what was left of their screwed-up friendship. He hoped House wouldn’t have to go to prison, but if he would he needed him to know that he was sorry and that he had only meant to help him, because he was worried for him.

Decision made, Wilson stood up from the bar, paid his tab and staggered out of the pub, back to House’s flat. Knocking repeatedly and hoping against hope that someone would answer. That House was awake and not still lying in his own vomit.

The picture of his pale and sweaty body on the floor intruding his mind again and making him feel nauseous. He really shouldn’t have left him back there alone. No matter what he had done, he hadn’t deserved that his friend abandoned him, when he needed him. The guilt was gnawing at him and the longer it took for House to open the door, to acknowledge his presence or make any sound at all, made it grow and grow. He knocked again, this time more anxious than before, shouting his friend’s name.

“Use your damn key. M’not getting’ up,” he finally heard House answer and felt stark relief flush through him.

His voice sounded a bit slurred, but at least he had answered, which meant he was okay, well as okay as he can be in these circumstances and hasn’t choked on his own vomit yet.

Wilson opened the door with his key and stepped inside the flat, looking around for House. Who was sitting on his couch (well more lying really). He was pale, sweaty and his breathing was shallow and laboured. Worry and guilt almost overwhelmed the oncologist again. How could he have thought leaving House alone in that state was a good idea, was what he deserved?

“House…,” he started, although he didn’t know how to continue. How to voice his thoughts.

“Coming back to berate me once more? Or are you coming back to gloat?”

Wilson shook his head, kneeled next to House, and tried reaching for the other’s hand to feel his pulse, but House pulled away, like he would be burned when touched.

“Don’t.”

He pulled his hand back, feeling bad for hurting his friend but knowing full well that it was his own fault. Why had he let his anger get the better of him and abandon House? How could he have done that?

Wilson glanced away, opening his mouth and closing it again multiple times. He wanted to apologize, wanted to make clear how much he regretted leaving House in that situation, how bad he felt about all of it, but couldn’t. The words just wouldn’t come out of his mouth in his drunken state. It was like something always stopped him before he could form a sentence. Probably his self-loathing.

House’s gaze was upon him, he knew. He could feel it burn into his soul, stripping him from all his layers and truly seeing the real him beneath it. House always had had an aptitude to see beneath the masks and layers and see him for who he really was. After all, he was the only one that knew Wilson was just as fucked up as everyone else, if not worse.

His sober musings got interrupted by House’s rough voice, “So what do you want?”

Wilson glanced up at the other’s blue eyes, but couldn’t hold the eye contact for long, the guilt of his actions forcing him to look away again.

“I shouldn’t have left you there. Shouldn’t have just gone away,” he mumbled, slightly stumbling over the words in his drunkenness.

“You should be. But then you already stabbed me in the back, leaving me to die was the logical conclusion”

The words stung, and Wilson knew it only hurt so much because it was true to some extent. He had betrayed House, but then House had betrayed him too. He had stolen his prescription pad and faked his signature (and not even good).

Now he felt his righteous anger return. How dare House put this solely on him? If he hadn’t faked the prescriptions, they wouldn’t be in this mess now. Yes, he shouldn’t have left House just lying on his floor, in his own vomit, but the whole situation wasn’t entirely his fault. Arguably he had ratted out House to Tritter, but he had only done it in order to help his friend.

House needed to realize that he was addicted to the Vicodin and that it was, in fact, becoming a problem. Wilson feared, that if he couldn’t get his addiction managed, it would spiral out of control and kill House in the process. That thought hurt so much more than his own guilt. This evening just cemented and proved that fear right.

“I was trying to help you! All you had to do was take the deal! But oh no, not Gregory House. That would be a reasonable thing to do for someone, after all. You just needed to make everything more complicated for yourself. Stealing a dead guy’s pills and overdosing. Congratulations House you have reached your lowest point.”

House was glaring at him now, “If you hadn’t told that bastard Tritter that I faked your signature, this whole thing would have blown over soon, but you just had to go to him!”

“I wanted to help you! You’re and addict and it’s a damn good deal, considering what you’ve done. Not only would you be able to keep your medical licence, wouldn’t have to go to jail for 10 years, but you also could finally get clean from the Vicodin!”

“I need the pills because I’m in pain! Besides I wouldn’t have gone to jail, he had no evidence before you went to him”

“Only because I lied for you! Can’t you see that if you go on like this it’s going to kill you? And I know it’s hard for you to comprehend, but I care too much about you to see you continue to kill yourself”

He was beginning to shake now, his emotions finally catching up with him. All the feelings and fears he had been holding back all these years coming to the forefront.

House was looking away and maybe if Wilson hadn’t been so angry, worried and drunk, it would have been enough of a reaction for him, but it wasn’t. Once he had started to let his feelings out, he couldn’t stop.

“You know the Vicodin was never meant as a long-term pain management regime and it’s going to kill your liver one day. I know you think I’m dismissing your pain, but I’m not. I just want you to get a better treatment plan, one that doesn’t kill you slowly every time you swallow a damn pill! I’m worried House, you don’t like to hear it, but I am! Today you almost died. You almost died and the worst thing is, I don’t know whether it was an accident or not…,” his voice began to break, the emotions finally overwhelming him. The desperation and fear clearly audible in is voice.

It was getting all too much and he couldn’t stop himself from shaking. Thinking House had overdosed deliberately was hurting worse than anything else. He couldn’t form another coherent thought. All he heard inside his head was:  _ he almost died today, and maybe he wanted to _ .

He felt his breath quicken and he knew he was on the verge of breaking down completely, if he couldn’t get himself under control.

Then he felt a hand around his pulse point. The warmth seeping into his skin and calming his mind and therefore his breathing.

“Wilson, calm down”

Wilson looked at House once again, seeing his worried expression. Apparently, he had spaced out longer than he had thought.

“Did you want to die?” he whispered; his voice raspy. Fearing for the answer.

He didn’t know what he would do if the answer was yes. Wouldn’t know how to feel with either answer, really, but he needed to know.

All he got for an answer was House glancing away, clearly uncomfortable, which to be fair was all the answer Wilson needed and he gulped, nodding.

“Okay…,” he didn’t know how to feel. How to act, so he didn’t. He just shut down. His mind couldn’t form a single thought and he felt like a big black hole was sucking him in. He was sinking and there was no way to stop it.

He felt his heart beat faster and his breath quicken once again. All he couldn’t think of was how House had wanted to die. That he could have lost his beast friend forever, today.

Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he flinched slightly at the contact. His panicked eyes meeting worried blue ones.

“You need to calm down Wilson, you’re starting to hyperventilate”

Wilson knew, but he couldn’t calm himself down. In his mind all he could see was House lying on his floor, not moving, not breathing. His head was starting to feel fuzzy and he felt his vision fade. There wasn’t enough air in his lung on not matter how hard he tried he just couldn’t get enough.

“Calm down. C’mon Jimmy, you need to breathe with me,” he faintly heard House say. It sounded like he was miles away.

Not wanting to disappoint him further, he tried his best to mimic the other’s breathing and finally, after a short while, he felt his heart calm down and his panic to subside.

On his shoulder was still House’s hand, which drew soothing circles, helping him to calm down once again.

“I’m sorry,” he rasped out, his voice strained from all his emotions. He looked up at House but couldn’t decipher his expression.

House just shook his head, “You’re an idiot. Why do you even care?”

It had been ushered silently but Wilson couldn’t believe House had just asked him that. He was his friend, basically his only friend, of course he cared! Suddenly he just felt tired and drained. Which was probably the reason why he did, what he did next.

He leaned forward, so that almost no space was between his and House’s face and closed his eyes. He knew the other was looking at him, but he didn’t care. He just hoped this wouldn’t ruin their friendship for good. Then he finally breached the space between them, and his own slightly dry lips met House’s rough ones. He kissed him gingerly, trying to lay every bit of feeling he had for House into it.

His heart was beating loudly in his chest and he feared that he had ruined everything, because House wasn’t reacting. Wasn’t kissing back.

Just as he was about to pull back, readying himself to be mocked for his feelings, he finally felt his friend’s lips move against his own and reciprocate the kiss. A warm tongue slid over his bottom lip, asking for entrance, which he readily gave. Wilson felt the wet tongue slide over his own and explore his mouth and he couldn’t hold back a soft moan.

He felt rough hands slide through his hair and it made shivers run down his spine. This was better than everything he had imagined. It felt right, like they were just the perfect fit for each other. House’s slight stubble scratched his soft skin, which felt surprisingly good and made electric bolt run through his entire body. His own handy slid over his friend’s back and he felt more than heard House moan into the kiss.

When they ran out of breath, they parted slowly. Wilson kept his eyes closed for a short while afterwards, not yet ready to lose the amazing feeling of finally kissing his friend.

“That’s new,” Wilson opened his eyes, once he heard House talk, “Can’t complain though”

Wilson gave a small smile, not entirely feeling normal again, but appreciating House’s try of lightening the situation.

“Me neither,” he whispered back and then kissed House again.

When they parted once more, he felt himself get pulled upwards, so he was sitting next to House. He looked at him, trying to see what he was thinking, but his head was turned away. He was about to apologize for just kissing him like that, when he heard House whisper, almost too silent to be heard, “I’m sorry. For earlier this evening I mean”

Wilson’s heart began to ache, when he heard the obvious pain in his friend’s voice, “It’s okay”

He took House’s hand and gave it a soft and reassuring squeeze, “We’ll find a way to get through this. It’s going to be okay”

Wilson knew that just because they had kissed, everything wouldn’t be okay. He was still angry at House after all and the whole Tritter debacle hadn’t just resolved itself, but he was willing to fight for it. He was willing to fight for everything to be okay. For them to be okay. And he just hoped that House was ready for that too.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Apparently my House M.D. obsession has returned thanks to my recent rewatch of the show. 
> 
> I wrote half of this years ago, when I first got into the show and only now got back to it to finish it. Basically rewrote the beginning and finished it during class today, so it really isn't my best work but eh. I'm still trying to get House and Wilson's voices right, so I hope it isn't too OOC but I don't know.


End file.
